It was 1976 in the spring

when the birds started to sing.

We built a small wooden ship

to go on our Whitestone trip.

Peter Nukon was in charge

as we built the small barge.

William Nukon was his brother

an’ elder William Itsi was the other.

Old Crow we left behind

an’ we headed up the Porcupine.

Up the river we went

and we camped in a tent.

Long ago stories William Itsi told

back in the days of old.

He told us when he was mauled by a bear

an’ he showed the scar by his ear.

Lots of ducks and geese we ate

an’ William had beaver meat on his plate.

I skinned beavers with my knife

and this was the trip of my life.

It was a holiday I won’t forget

an’ I still talk about it yet.

Another trip we want to plan

up to our ancestors’ land.